


At Her Majesty's Pleasure

by A_Constant_Reminder



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Modern Royalty, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Constant_Reminder/pseuds/A_Constant_Reminder
Summary: Amelia Pond wasn't prepared for her parents' death. Sure she has spent her whole life preparing to become the Queen of the small country of Freylon, but it wasn't supposed to happen like this. With parliament breathing down her neck, pressuring her to marry her betrothed, Rory Williams, Amy has to navigate a delicate political minefield while deciding if an arranged marriage is truly something she wants.Sherlock Holmes is a member of the royal guard, or ex-member. He resigned the night of the King and Queen's death, not accepting the "accident" story. There is something more to their deaths that no one else seems to be investigating. He comes back to the royal guard to become the main bodyguard for the new Queen. But she's in danger from an unknown enemy and there's an anti-monarchy movement slowly growing in the country.Can he save his Queen's life before it's too late? Will he be able to solve the clues that seem to be sporadic and disconnected? Most of all, what is he going to do when he starts falling in love with the stubborn Queen to be?
Relationships: Amy Pond/Rory Williams, Molly Hooper/Rory Williams, Sherlock Holmes/Amy Pond (Doctor Who)





	1. Chapter 1

_“A tragedy has struck the nation. The King and Queen, Augustus and Tabetha, have died in an accident.” The news anchor read, tears forming in her eyes. “We do not have many facts surrounding the accident. The palace has come out and asked for privacy during this grieving period. They have advised that they will announce when the funeral will happen in time. The King and Queen will be severely missed as the nation spends the next week in mourning for their beloved leaders.”_

.….

River’s heels clicked along the marble floor. She nodded to the service staff as she passed them. A cloud of sadness hung around the palace, settling on the shoulders of everyone inside and dragging them down as they moved around doing the only thing they could do; service the palace and the crown. It had been a week since the accident and she couldn’t let this go on for much longer.

She clicked the button to call the elevator to her and waited. Guards stood on either side of the doors. They stared straight ahead with their hands crossed in front of them. They, too, had a sadness about them but a determination in their eyes. All thoughts were now focused on protecting the last surviving member of the royal family.

The elevator dinged as the doors open and River got in. She pressed the button for the Princess’ suites. She still hadn’t moved in to the crown suites, and she wouldn’t until she was coronated and married. Though River doubted that she would even then. She looked at herself in the mirrored wall on the back of the lift. She looked older after this last week and she saw the same sadness in her eyes. She turned around and steeled herself as the elevator dinged again.

Walking out of the open doors River was greeted by a darkened hallway. There were dying flowers on the tables lining the hallway. The windows along the east wall remained closed, the curtains tightly drawn. She took a deep breath in and stepped off of the elevator. The guards on either side of the doors nodded at her as she passed them on the way to the Princess’ bedroom.

River gently knocked on the door, a sound that seemed to echo off of the walls around her. She stepped inside, not waiting for a reply. Inside the room all of the curtains were drawn. The sitting room looked a mess with bottles thrown carelessly everywhere. On the left wall there was a mirror which had been shattered, the golf club still sitting by it. River made a mental note to have it replaced. She carefully walked around the bottles to the bedroom door.

“Amelia,” she said softly as she opened it. “It’s just me.”

But there was no need, the Princess wasn’t in her bedroom. River turned the lights on in alarm, searching frantically for her. She ran out of the suites and called to the guards at the end of the hallway. They ran to her and raised the alarm to their superiors.

The Princess, soon to be Queen, was not in her suites. She had gone missing.

.….

She felt hazy, but that was the goal. The room around her spun as she clung to her new friend. If anyone knew who she was, they didn’t say anything. But that was why she came here, for the discretion that the club promised. She didn’t know what time it was or how she actually ended up here. All she knew was that she couldn’t feel the hurt that had been building inside her ever since she heard those fateful words.

Sure she knew that one day she would become Queen, but that day had always been so far in the future. Now that it was here, she felt crippled by performance anxiety paired with the inconsolable pain of losing the only two people she had ever loved in her life. 

“I need another drink,” Amy hiccuped. No, she would not think about the pain now. She would not think about the country. She wouldn’t think at all.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Her companion said.

Amy looked at him, her green eyes narrowing into slits. “I did not ask you for your opinion, I asked you to get me a damn drink.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, bowing his head slightly.

He sat her down on a nearby couch and went off in the direction of the bar, at least Amy hoped he did. Someone slid into the couch next to her. When Amy looked over to see who dared disturb her, she couldn’t make out his face clearly. All she saw were a pair of piercing blue eyes. Eyes that seemed to look into her very soul.

“Who are you?” She slurred.

The man answered in a low voice. “I’m here to take you home, your majesty.”

The stranger grabbed her by the wrist, his watch flashing in the colourful lights. Amy recognised it immediately. They had found her.

“No,” she protested, trying to pull away from this stranger.

Before she could protest further, a feeling travelled up her body from her stomach. And before the man could lift her to her feet, Amy threw up all over his lap and promptly fell back against the softness of the couch as the darkness of the blackout she had craved surrounded her and enveloped her in it’s cold embrace.

When she awoke she was back in her suites. She had been cleaned up and dressed in her pyjamas, by River, she assumed. Her brain was pounding against her skull as if it were trying to escape it. She moved her hand up against her temple, a movement that caused a fresh wave of pain through her aching head. She heard a knock on her door.

“Leave me be,” she groaned. “I don’t want to get up yet.”

River walked into the room. The rugs on the floor cushioning her heels which would otherwise echo through the large room with each step on the hardwood floor. Amy groaned again and pulled the blankets above her head. If River was here then that meant that the staff would be right behind her to refresh the room and open the curtains. Which meant the bright sun, something that she didn’t currently want in her eyes.

River pulled the covers back from her head and Amy glared at her. An action that was only interrupted when the first curtain was opened, the other curtains following suit a second later.

“Get up,” River said. “I have been very patient with you, Amelia, but that was the last straw.”

“Aren’t you supposed to address me as ‘your majesty’, River? I could have your head for that you know.” Amy retorted.

“And then who would run your life, _your majesty_?” Amy could hear the smirk in River’s voice, she didn’t like being mocked.

“I could throw you into the dungeons as punishment for your impudence.” She threatened. “But for now I am tired and wish to go back to sleep so you all can leave.”

She flicked her hand towards River and the staff, none of whom moved. River nodded to the staff and they left, closing the door behind them. 

“Amy,” she said softly as she sat down on the bed next to her. “I am your friend, but I am also your royal manager. I have let you neglect your duties for the past week but now the country needs you to pull it together.”

Amy looked up at her friend. Her curly blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She was wearing a nicely toned down pink lipstick and her glasses rested on the top of her head. She sighed, knowing that River was right. No matter what she drank to get rid of the feeling she was still the Princess, and soon she would be the Queen. She couldn’t continue down this path.

Amy sat up in her bed, her head protesting against every movement. “Fine,” she conceded. “But I need some painkillers. Right now I can see two of you and every time they speak I want to rip my ears from my skull so I don’t have to hear it.”

River nodded. She tapped something on the tablet she always carried with her. After a couple of minutes a knock sounded on her door. River stood up and walked over, thanking the person behind it before closing the door and coming back to Amy with two white tablets and a glass of water. 

“Here,” she offered. “Take these and drink the whole glass.”

Amy did as she was told, throwing the two tablets into her mouth and washing them down with a few gulps of the water. She didn’t realise just how thirsty she was until the water touched her lips and before she knew it, it was all gone. She placed the glass down on the table next to her bed. She wanted to lay back down amongst her soft pillows which seemed more inviting now than ever before, but duty called.

“Alright,” she sighed as she stood up and pressed a button on the table. “I’ll get ready and then you can tell me what we have planned for the day.”

River nodded and stood up as the staff walked back into her room to tidy up, something Amy hadn’t allowed for the past week. 

Amy ignored the people flitting about her rooms and walked to the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom was large, with the back wall completely covered by an enclosed shower. An ornate mirror took up most of the wall to her left with counters below. Two sinks rose above the countertops with golden taps that had vines and roses engraved into them. On her right was a door to her wardrobe and a sitting area. 

She let her nightgown fall to her feet and stepped out of the puddle of clothes. Amy walked up to the shower and opened the heavy glass door. She flicked on the shower which streamed from the roof, completely surrounding her body. She lifted her face up to the water droplets, letting them wash away the make up that she had had on for three days at least. She could still feel the pain deep inside her chest, it tightened against her heart with every breath until she couldn’t take it any longer.

It was in the shower that Amy cried for the first time since she had found out about her parents.

When she felt as if she had cried the last tear for now, Amy turned off the shower and stepped out. She grabbed one of the thick, plush towels from the rack and dried herself off. She wrapped one of the smaller towels around her hair and walked in to the wardrobe. 

This room was bigger than her bathroom and was constantly kept up to date. She had a design team on her staff but they were only ever used for large events such as her coronation or her wedding, both of which loomed over her and cast shadows. But she tried not to think about those right now.

She walked over to her underwear section and grabbed a matching bra and panty set. She pressed a button and River walked in.

“What are we doing today, River?” She asked as she looked around the rest of her wardrobe. “What do I need to wear?”

River tapped her tablet. “First you have a meeting with the prime minister about the funeral.”

Amy heard the catch in her friend’s throat as she said that word.

“Then you have a meeting with the Spanish ambassador to discuss the trade situation, you need to be aware though, he hasn’t taken too kindly to the change.” River warned. “And then we have coronation and wedding planning. Mr Williams does want to see you too to express his sympathies. I can schedule him in before the coronation and wedding planning, though he will also be there for part of the wedding planning as today you’re supposed to taste some cakes. I have arranged for the bakery to close up for the afternoon to allow you two to do some PR shots.” 

She groaned. Even if she didn’t want to think about the wedding it was currently the only thing on everyone’s mind.

“Fine,” she said as she grabbed a pair of tailored pants and a soft apricot silk blouse. “This will be enough for the prime minister and the ambassador. We’ll come back to get changed before we have to leave the palace for your PR shots. Is that it?”

“Mostly,” River hesitated. 

Amy looked over at the other woman. “Mostly?”

“You have a new security detail.” She said. “There will be more security around you at all times, the team has grown to nine. Four for the peripheries, four more to follow closer and be the main team.”

“That’s only eight, River.” Amy prompted. “Who’s the ninth?”

“His name is Sherlock Holmes, he was on your parents’ detail. He will be your main.” 

“So the man who let my parents die under his watch, has now been assigned to me?” Amy questioned, her eyebrows raising slightly. “That seems a bit questionable.”

“Amy, it was an accident. He couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.” She scolded. “In fact he resigned right after it happened. But because he is the best he was brought back for your detail.”

“Holmes,” Amy mused. “That name sounds familiar.”

“He is the head of security’s little brother.” River scrolled on her tablet.

“Ah, that explains it then.” Amy nodded, nepotism at its finest. “I also want to meet with the head of security today as well. I want to discuss it, the…”

“I understand,” River typed. “I will schedule him in between the ambassador and the coronation planning and let him know personally when you will arrive.”

“Thank you, River.” Amy smiled at her friend. “Thank you for bringing me out of this past week with minimal damage.”

River chuckled. “I wouldn’t say minimal damage, your majesty. There were some photographs which had to be destroyed and stories that had to be crushed. But no matter. Once you are ready we will head off to the east meeting room. The prime minister is currently waiting.”

Amy nodded. She sat down at her vanity and pressed a button underneath the table. Her stylist flew into the wardrobe, he had obviously been waiting just outside for this moment. 

“Your majesty,” he bowed low. “I’m pleased to see you again.”

Amy smiled at him and beckoned him over. “Please Louis, I need your magic to look at least human today.”

He walked towards her. “Your majesty by the time I’m done you will look like a goddess.”

.….

Louis left and Amy looked at herself in the mirror. Her brilliant red hair had been slightly curled and pulled into a low bun. He had left some bits out to frame her face and give her a softer look. He had done exactly as he promised though when she looked into her eyes there seemed to be something missing from them.

Sighing, Amy turned around as River’s tablet buzzed.

“Oh,” River said as she typed away in the corner arm chair. “Your main is here in your sitting room.”

Amy stood up and slid her feet into the heels that River picked out for her.

“Well then,” she braced herself. “Let’s go meet the man who let my parents die.” 

“Amelia,” River reprimanded. “It wasn’t his fault, it was an accident.”

She flicked her wrist towards River. “Same thing.” She dismissed. “No matter, let’s just get this over with.”

They walked out of the wardrobe together, River two steps behind Amy at all times. Amy walked over to her large bedroom doors and opened both of them as wide as possible before stepping through. The new main had his back to her but as soon as he heard the doors opening he stood up and spun around. Amy stopped for a moment, she remembered his eyes, though the memory was hazy with alcohol, she remembered exactly where she had seen him before.

“Oh god,” she stopped. “It’s you.” 

“Your majesty,” he bowed. “My name is Sherlock Holmes and I’m pleased to be of service to you.”

He stood up straight again, his blue eyes meeting hers. She felt shame wash through her body as she remembered exactly the events that had happened last night. Instinctively her eyes drifted down to his pants, there was not a stain on them.

“I’m sorry about your pants.” She apologised as she stepped into the room. “I’d offer to replace them but I’m sure that River has already made the arrangements.”

He nodded. “It’s fine. Just a hazard that comes along with the job.” 

Amy stood in front of him now. Even in heels he still stood slightly taller than her. His hair was dark brown and the ends curled slightly. She wondered if it was a soft as it looked.

“Well then,” she cleared her throat. “I guess we better get to work. Let’s go, River.”


	2. Chapter 2

Red and blue flashing lights lit up the scene in front of him. The royal car lay at the bottom of the cliff below him. He watched the smoke rising off the wreck as the paramedics and rescue crew tried to open the car to rescue any survivors. Though he knew there would be none. No one could survive that drop.

Someone tapped his shoulder and immediately he was brought out of his thoughts and into the present. The scene around him was loud, police officers surrounding the area and keeping watch for any stray paparazzi. They had cordoned off the area a few miles up the road to prevent anyone from coming close and seeing the wreck that held the King and Queen’s lifeless bodies.

Sherlock turned around to come face to face with his brother, the head of security. Mycroft had taken over for their father when he retired and Sherlock had taken over as second in command and head of the royal detail. Mycroft looked tired but he was dressed impeccably in a three piece suit, his umbrella held up to protect himself from the light rain.

“Sherlock,” he greeted. “I thought it was your night off.”

Sherlock nodded. “It was, but then I heard the call over the radio.”

“You’re not supposed to listen to that when you have time off.” Mycroft scolded him. “You were supposed to be on a vacation.”

“Yes, I was. But then this happened and I figured it was time to end the vacation.”

Mycroft sighed, he knew there was no use in arguing. 

“Who was on the detail?” Sherlock asked.

“John Watson.” Mycroft answered, pointing to the man who was currently speaking with one of the police officers. “He was following behind them when it happened.”

“I want to talk to him.”

Sherlock started to step towards the man who had witnessed the accident. Mycroft placed his hand on his shoulder, holding him back.

“Interrogating him is not going to change what has happened.” He said sternly. “Now we must move on and make preparations.”

“Move on? Make preparations?” Sherlock asked. “The King and Queen have just died and you want to move on? Do you not have questions about this Mycroft? He could answer them.”

Sherlock gestured towards John Watson and Mycroft shook his head. 

“It was an accident, Sherlock, nothing more. This isn’t going to be your big detective role play that you want it to be. This is just as it appears, a tragic accident.”

Sherlock puffed his chest and glared at his brother. 

“You will not interrogate the man,” Mycroft ordered. “You will follow me to the palace to start preparing for the Princess’ ascension to the crown.” 

Mycroft turned on his heel, expecting Sherlock to follow him but he stayed put.

“No,” Sherlock said in a low voice. “I will not.”

“Excuse me?” Mycroft turned to look at his brother.

“I said I will not follow you.” He took the watch off of his wrist and handed it to Mycroft. “I resign.”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft cautioned. “Think about this for a moment.”

“I have thought about it. There is something else to this Mycroft. They had the best driver, he was trained especially to drive in dangerous elements. He wouldn’t have had an accident.”

“That’s why they’re called accidents, Sherlock. No one can see them coming, they just _happen_.”

Sherlock shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so. What about those letters?”

“That was investigated by myself and I determined that they were not a threat.” Mycroft pressed his lips together. “Sherlock Holmes, do not disgrace our family name in this way.”

“I never wanted to be on the royal security detail anyway.” He shrugged. “I don’t want to let this go, I know I’m right Mycroft, you’re just too foolish to see the truth.”

“Fine,” Mycroft conceded. “Go and live out your detective fantasies. Though just be aware that when father finds out…”

“Father will not find out until I am ready for him to.” Sherlock threatened.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “You know he will find out about this straight away and he will have something to say about it. But you are an adult Sherlock and I will accept your resignation. I will allow you a week and then we will do the final debrief and strip.”

Sherlock nodded. “Fine, but I will not change my mind. I’ll see you in a week, brother.”

And with that, Sherlock turned to start walking towards his car which was parked half a mile up the road. He threw one last look to the wreck below and cringed as he saw the first body being pulled from the car. He was right, there were no survivors.

.….

His week was filled with his investigation. He had obtained the police report on the accident, the witness statements all said the same thing; the car had swerved suddenly and steered off the cliff. No one saw it coming, though there was one weird statement that Sherlock couldn’t get out of his head. It was that of John Watson’s. The man had said that he heard a weird sound before the accident. He described it as the sound of glass breaking but he didn’t see anything come out of the car in front of him.

Sherlock had stalled in his investigation. There was nothing else for him to find. He had the crime scene photos, the case file, the witness statements. He had went back to the bottom of the cliff, a hike that had taken around two hours and left him with a dozen mosquito bites, but he found nothing. The cleaning crew had done a thorough job. The car was disposed of by the palace and the bodies were stored in the palace morgue waiting for the funeral. There had been radio silence from the palace for the past week, though Sherlock knew better than to trust that.

Finally the day of his final briefing arrived. He got dressed in his tailored suit which consisted of dark blue, almost black, pants and jacket and a crisp white shirt. He tightened his tie and grabbed his phone and keys by the front door, locking it behind him. A car was waiting below to take him to the palace, courtesy of Mycroft who still believed his brother would change his mind.

Sherlock slid in to the back of the black SUV and the driver pulled away from the curb. They took the back way to the palace, making sure they were not being followed as they entered through the back gate. He looked out the window as the palace rose into view. It was an impressive structure, built five hundred years ago. The inside still holding the same grandeur as it did when it was first built, although it had been slightly modernised throughout the years to include the modern comforts.

The car pulled up to the entrance to the guard building. The guard building stood at the back of the palace, independent from the main structure. It housed the sleeping and living quarters for those on active duty and the office of the head of the royal guard, who at this moment was standing by the entrance with his arms crossed over his chest and a familiar frown on his face.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock greeted as he exited the car. “Always a pleasure.”

“Sherlock we have an emergency.” Mycroft said.

“I don’t work here anymore, therefore I do not have any responsibility in this emergency.”

“You will do as your brother asks.” A gruff voice came from behind Mycroft as their father stepped into view.

Sherlock’s father was an impressive man. He was large, built up over his years in the army and then his years as the head of the royal guard. He was just a bit taller than Mycroft but slightly shorter than Sherlock. His blue eyes stared in contempt at his youngest son who, once again, had chosen to disrespect the family in such a way.

“Father,” Sherlock held in the groan that was working its way up his throat. He cast a glance at Mycroft. “What a surprise.”

“Stop with the sass boy.” His father reprimanded. “There is a crisis and you will help. You will also not be leaving the guard, not if you wish to stay in this family.”

Sherlock looked over at his father. “And if I don’t wish to stay in this family?”

“You will never work anywhere again. You will die penniless and hungry.” His father threatened and a shiver ran up Sherlock’s spine. His father had always known how to control his children when they misbehaved.

“Fine,” he retorted. “I will stay in the guard but I will not like it.”

“You don’t have to.” Mycroft said. “You just have to do your duty. And right now your duty is to locate the Princess.”

Sherlock couldn’t stop the large laugh from erupting out of his mouth. “So you’ve lost the Princess? Just after losing the King and Queen. I’d laugh if it wasn’t so tragic. A week without me brother and this it what you have done.”

“Sherlock,” his father cautioned. “If you believe you could have done a better job then you shouldn’t have left.”

“Just find her and bring her back to the palace with no alerting the media. They are sharks looking for blood when it comes to her. You know her history with the press.” Mycroft uncrossed his arms and handed Sherlock his watch back. “There is a car ready for when you need it.”

Sherlock grabbed the watch from Mycroft’s hands and slipped it onto his wrist. “Fine, then I will do this my way.”

“Just so long as it gets done.” 

Mycroft and their father turned around and walked back into the guard building, discussing whatever it is that they discuss. Sherlock had never been privy to that. 

He walked towards the main building which housed the Princess’ suites. The staff were rushing about the lower level, presumably looking for the Princess, though the likelihood of her still being in the palace was minimal. He let them run around like ants and made his way up to the suites. A woman was waiting for him when he stepped out of the elevator.

“Mr Holmes,” she greeted. Her eyes looked tired but not surprised, this is probably not the first time the Princess had done something like this.

“Ms Song,” he nodded. “Tell me where she has gone.”

“I don’t…” She started but he cut her off.

“Ms Song, you are the Princess’ royal manager. Plus judging by the look in your eyes she has done this before but you cannot go and get her by yourself as that would cause too much of a scandal. So I will ask again, where is she?”

Ms Song sighed. “She’s gone to the Silver.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock nodded. He knew the club well from earlier in his life. “I will bring her back safely.”

He felt Ms Song grab his sleeve and he turned to look at her. 

“Mr Holmes, please be gentle with her.” She cautioned. “Amy, her majesty, is hurting _a lot_. Just be patient and gentle is all I ask.”

He was taken aback a bit by her frankness with using the Princess’ name, and a nickname no less. He looked in her eyes and saw that she was genuinely worried but not from a manager’s point of view, but rather a friend.

Sherlock nodded. “I will.” He promised.

.….

The car pulled up to the club. It didn’t need flashy signs or anything pointing out its location. Club Silver was known for its discretion as it was frequented by the elite of the country. Those of which currently included the Princess. He jumped out of the car and showed the bouncer his ID.

“She’s inside,” the bouncer confirmed and stood aside to let Sherlock in to the building.

He hurried in and scanned the room for her. The lights flashed overhead in different colours but nothing could dim the brilliant red that was her hair. Sherlock knew what the Princess looked like, it was his job to know as the main for her parents, but he had never seen her in person. Her hair seemed to shine with its own light as she clung to someone on the dance floor, moving her body against his in a way that would give the press all the canon fodder they needed to declare her an unfit ruler. Sherlock watched as her companion led her to a couch in a darkened corner and immediately started walking towards them. The companion and the Princess exchanged some words which he couldn’t make out over the loud music and then the companion hurried away to the bar. 

Sherlock slid into the couch next to the Princess, her green eyes turned to him. Her body was radiating heat as he sat closely to her.

“Who are you?” She slurred, Sherlock could smell the alcohol on her breath and her body.

“I’m here to take you home, your majesty.” He answered.

He reached forward and grabbed her wrists, they fit easily in one hand, and went to stand up.

“No,” she protested, trying feebly to pull away from him.

He was about to say something more but the Princess had other ideas. Ideas which resulted in his pants being ruined with royal vomit. Sherlock groaned, Mycroft would pay for this. She then promptly passed out on the couch, her wrists falling from his grasp as she fell backwards.

Her companion chose that moment to come back to the couch.

“Hey, who are you?” He asked.

“Shut up,” Sherlock growled. “Give me those napkins.”

The stranger said nothing and handed him the napkins. “Look man, she’s wasted I wasn’t going to try anything.”

Sherlock shot a look at him as he wiped off as much vomit as he could from his pants with the flimsy bar napkins.

“What’s your name?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t have to tell you.” The man defended.

Sherlock grabbed his royal ID and flashed it at the man who stiffened in front of him. 

“James,” he said. “My name is James Banner.”

“Brilliant.” Sherlock smiled coldly. “If you ever speak of this encounter James Banner, you will be hunted down no matter where you are in the world. I will hunt you and I will find you. When I find you I will kill you. Do you understand?”

The man swallowed, fear obvious in his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Sherlock nodded and waved his hand for the man to leave. He turned back to the unconscious Princess laying on the couch in front of him. He groaned, there was no other way to do this and Mycroft wouldn’t like this. But he picked up the Princess in his arms, holding her close to his chest. She whimpered quietly as Sherlock picked her up and then snuggled closer to him. He looked down at the Princess in his arms, she looked so vulnerable right now. Drunk and unconscious. At that moment Sherlock knew he couldn’t let the same thing happen to her that happened to her parents. No, he would protect this Princess if it cost him his life.


	3. Chapter 3

The meeting with the prime minister went exactly as she thought it would. His voice droned on and on for three hours as he first expressed his sympathies at the passing of her parents but then jumped in to the main point of the meeting. The funeral had been planned and was within the budget that had been pre-approved by parliament many years ago. It was the end of the meeting that had stayed in Amy’s mind as she walked to the guard building.

The wedding had to happen either before the coronation or during. She could not become queen if she was unmarried.

Amy didn't like it when people put deadlines on her, something that would happen more and more now that she was Queen to be.

River followed along with Amy, tapping away on her tablet as she walked. Amy had always been impressed by River’s ability to multitask like that. If Amy had tried she would have fallen flat on her face by now. The new bodyguard followed closely behind River. Amy hadn’t had as much time to asses him as she would have liked. She made a mental note to have River give her his file later. She wanted to learn more about this man who was now assigned to keeping her alive.

The guards at the entrance nodded to Amy as she walked up to the door, they opened it for her and stepped aside to let her in. She entered the building and the head of security was waiting for her in the lobby.

“Your majesty,” he bowed. “It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Amy nodded. “Although I wish it was under better circumstances.”

He stood up and offered her his hand, which she took.

“I know you have heard this a lot, but I just want to say that your parents were some of the best people I have had the pleasure of knowing. They have been very kind to my family throughout the years.” He squeezed her hand and then let it go.

“Thank you, Mycroft. It means more when it comes from someone who truly knew them.” She smiled softly. “I know you did everything you could for them, as your father did before you.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” He returned her smile. “Shall we head up to my office to discuss this?”

“Of course.” Amy said. “Lead the way.”

Mycroft led her towards the elevator and then up to the top floor of the building. His office took up the whole floor as he also had a living area adjacent to it.

“How is your wife?” Amy asked as they walked into his office and she sat down.

“She is well.” Mycroft sat down in the desk in front of her. “She is currently visiting her family up north with our son.” 

“And he is well too, I hope.” 

“He is, yes.” 

“Good.”

She was stalling, everyone in the room knew it. But she couldn’t bring herself to ask about it. She hadn’t spoken to anyone except River about the passing of her parents and speaking to Mycroft about it just made it seem all that more _real_ to her.

“Your majesty,” he started, pulling her out of her head. “I have the file here if you wish to read it alone.”

Amy shook her head. “No,” she said. “The last thing I want now is to read it and dwell on it. Just tell me what the outcome is.”

“Of course,” he nodded. “We have concluded that it was nothing more than an unfortunate accident. That information has been released to the public. The car that they were in drove off of a cliff when the driver lost control.”

“Why did he lose control? How?” She asked. It seemed weird to her that one of their drivers could lose control in that way.

“It was raining that night, quite heavily before we got there.” Mycroft said softly. “The roads were wet, it could have happened to anybody.”

Amy took a deep breath in. It could have happened to anybody, except it happened to her parents. It happened to the King and Queen of the country. They were not just _anybody_.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock piped up behind her. 

Amy turned around to look at her bodyguard, it was the first time that he had spoken since they met a few hours ago. She turned back to Mycroft who looked upset that Sherlock had said anything. She wondered why.

“Not now, Sherlock. You will remember your place.” He reprimanded coldly. “We will speak later.”

Sherlock bowed his head. “Of course, I apologise your majesty.”

Amy pressed her lips together. He obviously had more to say on the subject, and Amy wanted to know more. 

“On second thought, Mycroft can I have that file?” She asked.

“Of course your majesty, but to what end?”

“I just want to see it.” She said in a soft voice. “I just want to see the… It’s not real to me currently. I feel that if I see it then it will be real and I can move on with the wedding and coronation.”

“I understand.” He pulled out a file from the drawer next to him and handed it to her. “I have copies of everything so you can keep this if you like.”

“Thank you once again for seeing me, Mycroft.” She said as she stood up and grabbed the file.

“Of course, your majesty, you’re welcome any time.” He nodded and stood up with her.

Mycroft shot a look at Sherlock and Amy wondered at the dynamics of this family in front of her. She had never had any siblings, though she had begged her parents. It was interesting watching this exchange between them, it made her wonder if all siblings were like this. Maybe she didn’t want siblings if they were.

She exited the guard building and took a deep breath in of the fresh air outside.

“River, what’s next?” She asked, turning to her manager.

“We have the coronation planning and then the cake testing.” She answered, looking up at Amy. “Mr Williams is waiting in his suites for your word.”

Amy nodded. It was only one in the afternoon but it felt so much later to her. The day had been long and she was tired. The meeting with Mycroft had only left her with more questions and the file in her hands seemed awfully thin to be able to answer all of them.

“I would like a minute before the coronation planning.” She told River. “If possible I would like a minute to be alone.”

“I…” River started.

“I know, you can’t allow that.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Very well, the guard can follow me, but no one else. I don’t want the rest of the detail to be close by, is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.” River bowed her head. “They will be close but not too close.”

“Thank you, River. I will be in the rose garden.” Amy turned to her bodyguard, Sherlock. “Let’s go then Mr Holmes.” 

He nodded and they walked towards the rose garden, River standing at the entrance of the guard building and watching them go before turning towards the main palace and walking out of sight.

The walk to the rose garden from the guard building was a short one, but it felt far enough away from the main hustle and bustle that went on in the palace. It felt far enough away from her duties as the Queen to be, which is what she needed most right now.

Amy sat down on the bench she had often sat at with her mother. The file lay heavy on her lap for such a small file. She looked out across the garden which currently just held leaves on which individual rose bush. It was still too early for the roses to bloom but you could see a couple of buds here and there.

She turned to Sherlock and motioned for him to sit with her.

“Please Mr Holmes, have a seat.” She said as she patted the seat next to her.

“Your majesty I cannot.” He answered. “I must remain vigilant.”

“I don’t like saying this, but I will pull the authority card on you.” She raised her eyebrows in a challenge.

Sherlock looked at her, she could see him think this through in his eyes, but he gave in and sat down.

“Were you there?” She asked as she looked straight ahead and rested her hands on the file.

“No, your majesty.” She could feel his eyes on her. “I wasn’t there for the accident, I was on leave for the day.”

“Why?” She turned to face him. “Why weren’t you there?”

She didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but as soon as the words left her mouth she couldn’t take them back.

“Mycroft, the other Mr Holmes, had demanded I take the leave. Something about HR and not having a day off in the last three years.” He chuckled without humour, his blue eyes clear and full of regret. “I wouldn’t have left them in the car alone had I been there.”

Amy nodded. “Thank you, Mr Holmes.” She turned away from him again. There was only so much she could take of his eyes before they became too intense for her to look at. “Before, in Mycroft’s office, you were going to add something but Mycroft stopped you. What were you going to say?”

“I can’t, your majesty.” He pressed his lips together.

She sighed. “Listen to me, Mr Holmes, I understand that there is protocol that you must follow but this is my parents we are discussing. Not just the King and Queen, but the people who raised me and loved me. What were you going to say?”

Amy turned to him again, her green eyes holding all of the pain that she had been carefully hiding away for the day. She begged him silently to tell her what he knew, because it was obviously something otherwise he wouldn’t have spoken out like that.

Sherlock turned away first and sighed. He muttered something under his breath and turned back to her. “I don’t think it was an accident.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean?” 

“That driver had been trained in tougher conditions than just a bit of rain and low visibility.” He spoke slowly, but he was sure of his words. “The main was in the car behind them and he said he heard a noise immediately before the accident that sounded like glass breaking, though nothing had fallen from the car. The way that the car was wrecked made it very hard to determine what happened from the fall or what happened prior to it.”

Amy nodded. “So you think the crash was deliberate?”

“Yes,” he said in a quiet voice. “I do.”

“Who do you think was behind it?”

Sherlock was quiet for a while and when he finally did speak, Amy almost couldn’t make out the words. “I don’t know.”

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “River said you had resigned after the accident, why did you come back?”

“I had to, it’s my duty.” He said looking straight ahead, his jaw firm and tense.

She wanted to know more, to ask more questions, but they had been sitting out here for long enough already. She knew that River would be having a fit with how delayed this would make them.

Amy stood up, Sherlock immediately followed suit.

“Mr Holmes,” she said as she turned to him. They were so close together that she could feel his warmth through her thin blouse.

“Yes, your majesty?” He looked at her expectedly.

“Please drop the whole ‘your majesty’ thing. It makes me uncomfortable.” She asked. “At least when we are in private. I ask the same of all my regular staff and I would like to extend the courtesy to you too, considering you are now part of my regular staff.”

“Of course,” he hesitated for a moment. “Amelia.”

She liked the way her name sounded on his tongue. She didn’t even correct him that she preferred the name ‘Amy’ to ‘Amelia’. She liked the way he said it. It felt personal, like a hug almost, the way his lips formed the sounds and syllables of her name.

Amy smiled at him, it was her first real smile of the day. “Thank you, Mr Holmes. We best be off before River has my head.” She chuckled.

.….

She listened, bored, as the event planner rattled off the plans he had for the coronation. It would be the most extravagant event, he assured her. Anyone who was anyone important would be there. The guest list was no less than a thousand people, filled with various royalty, parliamentary and general famous people that Freylon had produced throughout the years.

She would have to change twice during the event. First would be her opening outfit, the dress she would wear to enter the room and mingle with the guests. Then it would be her coronation gown, a gown that was still being worked on by various designers and her own design team. Amy didn’t like that there was so much involved in this event which was ultimately just a symbol for the power she currently held anyway.

Amy tried hard not to fall asleep as the planner continued to sound too excited by the catering and guest lists. River had kicked her a couple of times under the table when she started to drift off. The only thing that Amy could think about right now was her bed and how she had been taken from it too soon.

River cleared her throat and the planner stopped talking. The silence that followed was like a wave washing over her pounding head.

“Thank you for your time, Mr Jones.” River smiled politely. “But we have another event to head to.”

“Of course,” he bowed a bit too low, Amy was surprised he didn’t fall over. “I will take my leave then.”

Amy smiled, thankful that it was now over. “Thank you,” she said as she stood up and turned to leave the room before he could start up again about the different shades of blue they could use to compliment her complexion.

She sighed as they left the room. “I thought that would never be over.” Amy groaned.

“It just a formal necessity,” River said. “Once it’s done you’ll never have to think about this again.”

“The same can be said of the wedding I suppose.” She shrugged. “A formal necessity.”

The prime minister’s words still rung in her ears. 

“A beautiful commitment,” River corrected.

“Only if you love the person.” She responded.

“Amy,” River started.

“I know, I’m aware I don’t get that luxury.” Amy sighed. “I just wish I did, you know?”

She nodded. “Of course, but at least Mr Williams is someone that you know. Your parents didn’t even get that and they turned out fine.”

“River,” she sighed. “I appreciate that you’re trying, but that doesn’t make it better. Please just let Rory know that I’m getting changed and then I’ll meet him at the car.”

River nodded and walked off in the opposite direction. Amy walked towards the elevator that took her to her suites, Sherlock following behind. They stepped into the elevator together and he pushed the button for her floor. Amy leaned against the back wall of the elevator as the doors slid closed. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through her anxieties about the cake testing. 

“Are you married, Mr Holmes?” She asked suddenly.

“No,” he answered. “I never saw the point in the institution of it all.”

Amy nodded and looked over at him. “So no one ever caught your eye then?”

“Not quite,” he chuckled. “But not in the way that you refer to.”

“Surely there must be someone then, you’re relatively good looking.” She could feel the blush rising up to her cheeks as the words fell out of her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that, but sometimes her mouth had a mind of its own.

“Thank you, I think.” He smiled warmly at her, his head slightly tilted to the left as he watched her. “But no, that is all on Mycroft. Our parents have all but given up on me to speak frankly.”

“Seems tragic,” she said as pulled away from the wall. “But what do I know, I guess.”

“An awful lot, I wager.” He said as the doors opened.

Amy looked over at him for a moment. There was something about him that made her feel at ease, safe if there were such a feeling for someone in her position. 

“Thank you,” she smiled. “For speaking so frankly with me.”

They stood there for a minute, just evaluating each other. The elevator doors started to close and Sherlock held his arm up to stop it.

“Your majesty,” he stood aside for her to exit. “I believe your fiancé is waiting for you.”

She nodded stiffly and walked out of the elevator. Though she knew that word was the best description for what Rory was to her, she still didn’t like it. 

She walked into her rooms and Sherlock went to sit down in the sitting room.

“I thought you had to stay close by.” She said, once again speaking before she had properly considered her words.

He cleared his throat. “Of course, your majesty.”

“Mr Holmes,” she raised her eyebrows. “The door is closed, there is no need for formalities.”

“Sorry,” he hesitated again, looking back at the door before speaking quietly. “Amelia.”

“That’s better,” she smiled at ease.

Amy opened the doors to her bedroom, which she must admit did look a lot more inviting now that it was cleaned up and the windows were opened. She left the doors open for Sherlock to follow her.


	4. Chapter 4

There was more to this Princess in front of him that Sherlock hadn’t considered. He assumed that she would be like any other royal that he had interacted with previously. They only ever cared about the money, the parties and the fame that came along with being royalty. But not her. He had watched her all day, slowly unlocking different aspects of her personality that seemed to go on forever. It was a path he could follow until he died, learning more about her. The moment in the rose garden had been the most revealing of all. Sherlock felt like the puzzle that was Amelia Pond was almost completed but then she did something or said something else that threw him off and revealed more pieces that he didn’t think possible.

But as he walked into her bedroom he knew he was stepping into unknown territory. Something that put him on edge normally but with her it felt so normal, so natural to be following her into the place where she slept, she cried, she kept her innermost secrets. Secrets that he found himself wanting to know.

“The wardrobe is through here.” Amelia motioned to the doors on the left wall of her room. “You can sit over there and wait.”

Sherlock nodded and walked towards the armchair she had motioned to. There was a table next to the chair which held a book and a fresh vase of flowers. He wondered if this was what she was currently reading, as he read the title of the book. It was _The Republic_ by Plato, something that he hadn’t expected of her, though he didn’t know why he even had any expectations of her as she continued to surprise him.

He looked away from the book and around her room. It was exactly the way any Princess’ room should be, but there were small touches of her around the room. There was a desk against the windows on the right wall that had papers and pens carelessly thrown about. A bin sat under the desk that was almost full of crumpled up papers. The wall which had the door they entered from was lined with dark oak bookshelves who’s shelves were all stocked to the point that the books were starting to pile up in-between the top of the books and the bottoms of the shelf above them. Sherlock resisted the urge to get up and see what books lined those shelves.

Instead he continued to scan her room until his eyes settled on the slightly open wardrobe door. Through which he could see Amelia walking around in her underwear as she tried to decide what to wear. Sherlock immediately looked away, his face growing warm as the memory of her smooth skin played back in his head. He shook the memory away, he couldn’t allow such thoughts to take hold. 

Amelia poked her head out of the door, her long hair falling over her shoulder.

“Mr Holmes,” she called. “Sorry but can I have your assistance for a moment? Normally I have River here to help me.”

He stood up quickly. “What do you need, Amelia?” Her name still felt foreign to say, wrong almost. But so right at the same time, as if he were always supposed to say her name.

She opened the door wider to allow him into the wardrobe. “Can you please zip me up?” She asked as she turned her back to him.

Sherlock took a deep breath in as he stepped into the room. The flash of skin he had seen previously was nothing compared to what stood in front of him now. He stepped closer to her and clasped the zipper which rested on her lower back. He pulled it up quickly, actively choosing to think about the elements on the periodic table than the feeling of her smooth skin against the backs of his fingers. Their eyes locked for a second in the mirror in front of them and then Sherlock took a step back.

“What do you think?” Amy asked as she turned around to face him. “Is this decent enough for a cake testing PR stunt?”

He looked at the dress she had chosen. It hugged her figure in a way that accentuated its delicate curves. The dress had buttons on the front and a square cut collar which showed off her collarbones nicely but still left much of her skin covered. It had long sleeves and extended down to below her knees before flaring out slightly. The beach colour of the dress brought out the creamy undertones of her skin and interacted with the colours in her hair in a way that he had once thought was impossible.

Sherlock had to admit, she was beautiful. A fact that he was sure she was aware of.

“Yes, it looks suitable.” He cleared his throat as his eyes finally met with hers. 

Amy nodded, her eyes looked sad for a moment before she smiled.

“I guess we better get a move on then.” She squared her shoulders and grabbed the clutch that was waiting for her on the table in the middle of the room. “We wouldn’t want to keep my _fiancé_ waiting.”

Sherlock winced internally at the way she said the word. That was another thing that he had questions about. Questions that would never be answered as it was not part of his job to know.

He nodded. “As you wish, Amelia.”

He stepped aside and allowed her to lead the way through her bedroom. His fingers still felt electrified from where they made contact with her skin. It was like a current running under his skin and to his heart.

There was something about her, Sherlock thought. Something that seemed to call to him and beckon him closer. Something that didn’t care about the rules or the protocols. But he had to ignore that as best as he could because he did care about the rules and the protocols. He could not allow himself to become attached to this woman. It was nothing more than professional curiosity, he told himself. Just getting to know the person he was supposed to protect with his life.

They walked in silence to the concealed entrance of the palace. The main gates were still swarming with paparazzi. Sherlock had looked a little bit harder in to Amelia’s past encounters with the paparazzi, what he found wasn’t the most flattering. Pages after pages printed on her exploits around the world. Up until three months ago when her betrothal to Rory Williams was announced. After which she seemed to drop off the face of the world except for the numerous PR stunts that they did as an official couple. Then last week happened. Sherlock shuddered to think of it, he still remembered the warm, wet feeling of her vomit on his pants. Something that he definitely never wanted to experience again.

They arrived at the car and Sherlock took a second to assess the man that was to become the King upon marriage to this impossible woman. Rory Williams wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short. He was about the same height as Amelia in the heels she was currently wearing; heels which were not that tall, Sherlock noted. His dirty blonde hair was brushed back and swept slightly to the left to give him a distinguished, put together look. He wore a tailored white button down shirt with the top two buttons undone and dark blue pants. Everything about him appeared complimentary to Amelia, down to his eyes which were a soft, subtle blue in comparison to her vibrant green. He seemed to be a perfect match for her.

“Amy,” he smiled as he walked up to her and kissed her cheek. “Are you ready?”

Amelia nodded at him. Her lips smiled but her eyes were somewhere else.

“As ready as I can be,” she sighed. “I suppose it’s too late now to ask them to just bake whatever cake they want and we stay here in the palace?”

Rory laughed. “Unfortunately it is a bit too late.” He held the car door open for her. “But I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

She pressed her lips together and threw a look over her shoulder. Her eyes met with Sherlock’s and for a moment he could have sworn she was trying to ask him to take her away from this car and this man. But then the second passed and she turned back to her betrothed.

Amelia got into the car gracefully with Rory following suit. Sherlock closed the door behind them and jogged to the front passenger side. River was already in the car behind them along with Rory’s manager, Jenny. Sherlock had done additional background checks on her last night. He had to know everyone who was involved in Amelia’s life, even indirectly, if he was going to crack this puzzle that seemed to just get blurrier with each passing second.

He suppressed a sigh and motioned for the driver to get going. They left the palace and started the drive towards the heart of their capital city.

The capital city of Freylon was large, but not too large that you would get lost in it like some cities out there. You could explore the whole city in a day and a half. Aldford stood old and distinguished against the modernised cities of the old. Sherlock much preferred Aldford to any other though. The buildings still had character to them, they still had beauty. It was against the ocean and had gardens surrounding the outskirts of the city like a border keeping them safe. The streets were still mostly cobblestone, there had been no need to update them to asphalt yet. The shops and houses that lined the streets were reminiscent of the Tudor era style of building in England, all dark wood and lighter plaster or brick in some places. 

They arrived at the bakery. A rope line had been set up on either side of the building. Behind the rope line were a bunch of reporters with their cameras and microphones all sitting patiently on the chairs provided for them. They chatted amongst themselves and once the royal car pulled up, they stood to attention. 

Sherlock was the first one out of the car. He opened the door for Rory who walked out and waved at the reporters with an easy smile on his lips. He held his hand out for Amelia to help her out of the car, but in true Amelia Pond style, something that Sherlock was learning to recognise rather quickly, she ignored Rory’s outstretched and gracefully stepped out of the car. Sherlock suppressed a sly smile and closed the door behind them. 

Amelia took Rory’s hand and waved to the reporters who were almost clamouring over themselves to get the perfect picture. They walked into the shop with Sherlock, River and Jenny following closely behind. Sherlock directed two guards to stand at the front door and another two at the back entrance, just in case any reporters tried to get smart with them.

The baker was waiting for them inside, his arms outstretched to welcome Amelia and Rory into his humble shop. Sherlock looked around. There were cakes and various baked goods lining the walls and displayed in the front window. 

“Your majesty,” the baker bowed to Amelia. “Welcome.”

She waved her hand, a warm smile on her lips. “Roberto,” she walked up and hugged him. “Please, you have served my family for long enough now that you are practically family to me.”

He returned the hug. “As always, Princess, you are wonderfully accomodating, so much like your mother.” He pulled away to take her hands in his. “I was so saddened when I heard about the accident. The only light these days is your beautiful face and the promise of this wonderful union.” 

Amelia winced slightly when the baker said the word ‘accident’ but Sherlock was the only person who noticed. 

“I’m glad to be of service.” She said, Sherlock could hear the undertones of sarcasm in her voice. If anyone else heard it, they all ignored it.

Rory and Amelia were ushered to a table in the middle of the shop, in full view of the windows and reporters beyond them. A perfect PR shot to show the Princess in the best light for the country to consume and forget about the troubles that would otherwise be bothering them. He stood to the side of the room, out of view of the windows but with a clear view of the room, windows and the street beyond, and settled in for the next few hours of this cake testing.

.….

Once they had finally decided on a cake, Sherlock almost cheered. It had taken them longer to decide than it had to eat the testers in front of them. He was growing sick of this whole farce in front of him. He couldn’t understand how the reporters were still out the front of the shop taking pictures when all they were doing was sitting down and eating cake. 

They said goodbye to the baker and started their way out of the front door. The guards stood aside to let them through. First Rory and then Amelia. They stood for a moment and chatted to the reporters about the cakes and about the wedding. The reporters had been given a pre approved list of questions they were allowed to ask. Any deviation from the list earned them silence and a revocation of their invitation to cover other royal events. When they were finished with the questions, Rory and Amelia stood in front of the shop for photos. His arm wrapped easily around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Sherlock felt something rising up in the pit of his stomach but he ignored it. Those feelings were not useful to him right now so there was no point in feeling them. But they did not disappear, they stayed in the back of his mind, tormenting him and mocking his inability to get rid of them.

Once all of the photos were done, Amelia pulled away from Rory quickly and started towards the car where the driver was holding the door open for them. And then things seemed to happen in slow motion for Sherlock.

As she was turning to walk towards the car, one of Amelia’s heels got caught in a crack in the sidewalk and her ankle twisted underneath her. She started to fall backwards, her eyes catching his and full of panic. Sherlock held his arms out and jumped into action, catching her just before she could hit the ground. His arm wrapped behind her shoulders with the other gripping her waist. They looked at each other for a moment and the rest of the world fell away around them as he held her in his arms.

“Are you hurt?” He was breathless but he looked over her body and down at her ankle to assess the damage. It wasn’t red or swollen so she was probably fine, but he didn’t want to let her go. The electricity was back in full force again. It crackled between them, begging them to move closer together.

Amelia shook her head, her green eyes were a little dazed. “No, I’m alright. Thank you, Sherlock.” 

A hand touched his shoulder and just like that the spell was broken and the world came crashing back into focus. He could hear the sound of cameras going crazy around them. He turned his head to look at the person who the hand belonged to and his eyes met with Rory Williams’, Amelia’s betrothed.

Sherlock straightened himself and the Princess in one fluid movement. The second he let go of her warm body it felt like he lost a part of himself.

Rory cleared his throat as Amelia hurried into the car. “Thanks mate.” He smiled that easy smile again and followed Amelia into the back of the car.

The driver shut the door behind them and Sherlock hopped into the front. He would hear about this from Mycroft later, he was sure of it. He didn’t want to think about the headlines that would be all over the media come tomorrow morning. The headlines about him and the scandalous Princess. Headlines that wouldn’t be true but that made no difference to these vultures who were just after a good story.

The car ride back to the palace was silent. Amelia was looking out of her window but occasionally her eyes would dart in Sherlock’s direction until she saw him watching her and then she would blush and return to looking out of the window. Sherlock only knew this because he was watching her the whole ride in the rearview mirror. He longed to know what was going on in that head of hers. He regretted that he had probably just caused a problem for the palace but he didn’t regret the way she felt in his arms.

It was official, he was in over his head when it came to Amelia Pond.


End file.
